


Making Breakfast

by abnosomesouls



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Boys Kissing, Cas has all these people under control, Caught in the Act, Dean is an overgrown 12-year old, Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, I wanted to write a fluffy kitchen scene with Dean and Cas, Jess is cool, Lazy Sex, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sam and Dean bickering, Sam is pained, Schmoop, Smut, lots of teasing, marking kink, mild hangovers, pouty Dean, super lame fights, then the rest of this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:12:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abnosomesouls/pseuds/abnosomesouls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lazy morning after Sam and Jessica's drunken engagement celebration. Everyone's crashed at Dean and Cas's house so it's up to the hosts to make breakfast for everyone. (Really just an excuse for shameless kitchen fluff with a bit of smut thrown in for fun.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I were better at writing smut. Is that a thing normal people say?

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

Dean rolled over and flung out an arm, not at all ready to wake up yet. He was startled unwillingly into consciousness however when his arm smacked down on another body, making them both jump and eliciting a sleepy, irritated grumble from the lump of covers next to him.

“Crap, sorry babe,” Dean yawned.

The only answer he got was another growl that probably would have been more menacing if it didn’t just make him want to cuddle closer. Not that he would readily admit to being a cuddler, except that he went all lovesick octopus on Cas whenever he got the chance. And since he wasn’t quite awake and he was feeling warm and loose and self-indulgent, he did just that. Slipping his rogue arm under the sheets Dean pulled Cas close, curled around him and buried his face in Cas’s soft, messy hair, breathing deeply, all without opening his eyes.

Cas gave another halfhearted groan of protest at being jostled, belied when he wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist in turn and nuzzled his nose into Dean’s collarbone. Dean smiled to himself and they lay there together for uncounted minutes, content to drift on the edges of consciousness. Eventually Dean felt the last vestiges of sleep begin to fade and sighed wearily, opening his eyes. He’d rather go back to sleep, but if he had to actually be animate he couldn’t think of a better place to be. In bed with Cas was the absolute best way to spend a Sunday. Or any day, really.

Plus, since he was already awake and everything…

Dean slid his hand down Cas’s back, then slowly back up underneath his t-shirt. Cas’s skin was smooth and warm with sleep, muscles lax. He let his hand rove up and down a few times, just enjoying the feel of Cas’s shoulder blades, the curves of his spine, the dip of his trim waist; all garnering nothing more than a roll of the shoulder when his palm brushed over a particularly sensitive spot on Cas’s side.

“Cas,” he whispered into the dark head.

No answer.

Well that wouldn’t do at all. Dean lifted his head to brush his lips along Cas’s cheek and trailed his fingers around to stroke his stomach. “Cas,” he tried again, teasing the rim of the other man’s belly button with a fingertip.

Cas sighed but didn’t open his eyes, just turned his face to hide further in Dean’s shoulder. Undeterred, Dean insinuated a foot between Castiel’s and rubbed it along his calves, savoring the soft friction. Cas still didn’t move though.

Hm. Dean was going to have to up his game a bit here.

Unable to hold back a small smile at his lover’s stubbornness (Cas’d never really been a morning person) Dean shifted slightly to trail light kisses down Cas’s face to his jaw, tonguing at the morning stubble there, and stroked up Cas’s lean torso to his chest until he could thumb over a nipple, circling and feeling it tighten under his touch. This time Cas couldn’t hold back a small shiver and a low “mmm” of pleasure.

 _Aha_. Success.

Triumphant, Dean rolled onto his back and all but manhandled Cas on top of him so he could watch those gorgeous blue eyes blink open slowly. He grinned up into Cas’s sleepy not-quite-aroused-but-definitely-interested face and brushed back the tufts of dark hair hanging over his forehead, tracing a thumb around and down Cas’s hairline. His eyes traced the contours of Cas’s face as he slowly came to awareness, marveling distantly that the beautiful man on top of him was his and this was his life. Unforgivably gushy, yes, and he’d punch anyone who accused him of it out loud, but sometimes that damn fuzzy feeling grabbed him out of nowhere and Dean couldn’t help himself. Cas cocked his head at the undoubtedly goofy look on his face in silent inquiry, but Dean just gave a dismissive little shake-shrug in response and leaned up to kiss him.

The appreciative hum came from Dean this time. Cas’s mouth tasted amazing, sweet and familiar even in the morning, and Dean could never figure out how he managed that but damn if it wasn’t always true. He pressed their mouths together gently, over and over again, and then licked Cas’s lower lip so it glistened. Satisfied with his work, he angled his head and sucked wet, soft kisses on Cas’s tempting pink lips, tongues brushing but not invading, not yet. He could stay in their bed worshiping Cas’s mouth for days. He was constantly having fantasies about it at work— Cas biting his lip, teeth digging into the soft flesh and leaving it swollen and begging for Dean’s; licking into his mouth and lazily tongue fucking him; those plush lips wrapped around his dick and sucking for all they were worth while Cas looked up at him through his dark lashes.

With one last faint smack, Dean pulled back to settle in the pillows once more, stroking the side of Cas’s neck. His body was definitely awake now, muscles beginning to thrum with a familiar heat. There was little urgency to it but he was already half-hard, cock filling up in a conditioned response to the inescapably sexy body above him. He got a brief flash of that beautiful mouth, red now from his kisses and all the more luscious for it, before Castiel followed him down intently, pressing Dean’s chin with his thumb and fastening his lips onto Dean’s open mouth in one smooth motion. Cas was a little controlling in bed sometimes, and Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t love it. He was a grown man, yes, but having usually-calm Castiel pushing him into place and just taking what he wanted was enough to get Dean weak in the knees and whimpering shamelessly. Even on a lazy morning like this Dean’s legs were already shifting restlessly and he couldn’t stop himself from pushing his mouth harder against Cas’s, as if they could never be close enough. Cas pumped his tongue in and out, exploring Dean’s mouth as if it were uncharted territory, when in fact the opposite was true.

He loved it when Cas kissed him like this, sensually, as if they had all the time in the world to do nothing but kiss and Cas was going to layer pleasure on Dean until he melted. He sank further back into the pillows, pliant, scrubbing his fingers through Cas’s messy hair and down his neck, rubbing his tongue silkily along Cas’s and echoing his low rumble of pleasure.

Cas knew all of his sweet spots—the inside of his right knee, just below his belly button, the back of his neck—and never failed to exploit that knowledge. Now he trailed kisses over Dean’s face down behind his ear, ignoring the pitiful sound of protest Dean made at the loss of his mouth, until he reached the bolt of his jaw. Dean squirmed and gasped when Cas bit down lightly then sucked, just like the little shit knew he would. Dean ran his nails up the long muscles of Cas’s sensitive sides in retaliation, knowing Cas would arch and stretch wantonly. He scratched lightly up and down, enthralled with Cas’s small rocking shudders and how he was practically purring on top of Dean now.

Dean rolled his hips up invitingly, gratified when Cas ground back down on him. Needing more than teasing touches, more _Cas_ , he lifted one foot and wrapped it around Cas’s leg to get enough leverage so he could press more firmly— _ah_ , there.

Cas settled further between Dean’s legs and ground his hips in little circles, right up where he could feel the length of Cas’s hard cock sliding over the sensitive underside of his own. Dean caught his breath and rocked more insistently against that delicious heat, clutching at Cas’s back, fingers digging in. Cas just moved his attention to Dean’s neck and sucked a mark right above his shirt collar, one that would purple up nicely later while Dean moaned in his ear.

Apparently satisfied with his work, Cas moved back up to run his tongue around the shell of Dean’s ear and nip at the sensitive skin behind it. Dean gave a little sound of startled pleasure and slid his hands down, gliding over the muscles flexing in Cas’s back, until he could slip under the waistband of Cas’s boxers and palm his ass in both hands. Dean squeezed in rhythm with the roll of Cas’s hips, pulling them tighter together and making Cas grunt at the friction. He licked and sucked over Cas’s Adam’s apple while using his double handful of the other man’s ass to spread those firm cheeks just enough to tease a finger between them and trace the puckered ring there, and Cas’s mouth was back on his so fast it made his head spin.

Then Cas was reaching, lifting his hips away from Dean’s enough to fit his hand between them. Dean whined at the loss until Cas slipped under his waistband, wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s hard shaft and started stroking. Cas had Dean whimpering when he brushed his thumb over the head and pressed against the slit, an answering sound of need punched out of him when his palm was slicked with Dean’s precome. Dean peeled one of his hands from Cas’s glorious backside and slid it around to the front to grasp his thick length and stroke firmly in turn, still keening breathily into Cas’s mouth as he twisted his wrist and squeezed at Dean like a fucking pro.

Cas braced himself on one arm, curling his hand around Dean’s head, and pulled back to look in his eyes as he jacked Dean slowly, paying special attention to smearing his palm over the head and dragging the edge of his thumbnail up and down the underside of the shaft, all the things that made Dean glaze over with bliss.

There were a hundred things in Cas’s eyes as he gazed down at Dean; lust, satisfaction, possession, contentment, affection, need. Dean was lost to it, to the overwhelming love he could still hardly believe was his and the answering tug in his chest, and he knew his face reflected all the same things back at Cas. He soaked it all in, infused with warmth, locking eyes in between kisses to watch the pleasure crest and break gorgeously as they lazily stroked each other to completion.

When it was over, after they’d arched and spilled over each other’s fists, panting, and Dean relaxed his thighs from where they’d curled around to grip Cas’s hips, they collapsed bonelessly. Cas had his face mashed into Dean’s shoulder and Dean stared at the ceiling, catching his breath and blinking slowly back into awareness.

Cas’s face was hidden, hair brushing Dean’s ear, and every so often he would let out a small sigh. Dean curled a hand over the nape of Cas’s neck and softly kissed his temple.

“Morning, baby.”

Cas groaned a little with the effort, but managed to stir himself just enough to pry his eyelids apart and lift his head. His eyes crinkled with his not-quite-smile as he shifted to plant one more kiss on Dean’s lips.

“Good morning, Dean.”

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

Almost an hour later they made their way downstairs, Dean having made the executive decision that a shower was in order before anything else. Because after eleven years of creative sex with Cas he could say with a rather impressive level of expertise that dried come was itchy and inconvenient and no longer at all fun.

Plus it was awkward as fuck to explain away when you had unexpected company.

Maybe Sammy had a point after all when he accused his big brother of scarring him for life, Dean mused absently, thinking of the frankly embarrassing number of times he and Cas had been caught.

Eh, whatever. Dean mentally shrugged it off. Kid’s own fault. He should have known better than to walk into the living room without announcing himself.

A loud rumble issued from the vicinity of Dean’s stomach, making Cas grin. “What?” Dean asked defensively. “It’s way past time for breakfast, you’ve gotta be hungry too.”

They would have been down even sooner, but _someone_ (read: Cas) had woken up enough to decide that lazy morning sex was great, yes, but rounding it out with lazy morning shower blowjobs? Even better.

Not that Dean was complaining.

“I am,” Cas agreed easily, “just not, apparently, as much as you.”

“Are you calling me a pig?”

“I would never,” Cas demurred, but Dean saw the playful glint in his eye. He just harrumphed indignantly when Cas chuckled and tickled at his back.

Mid-morning sunlight filled the kitchen when they reached the first floor, making the dove gray tiles gleam and the yellow-and-white striped curtains glow. Dean had initially quirked a very skeptical eyebrow at Cas when he laid out his idea for the color scheme of their kitchen, thinking it was impossibly girly. Hell, the fact that they even had a _color scheme_ in the first place was unutterably gay. (He conveniently ignored the fact that he’d chosen to spend his life with a guy so yeah, as far as most outsiders were concerned Dean was in fact pretty gay now, but still. There were limits.)

But Cas had persevered and, like always, Dean had given in at the eagerness in Cas’s wide eyes. Secretly he loved their kitchen, their whole house really, was actually proud of how inviting and homey it felt. Dean could never help a little flicker of superiority whenever he was invited to a friend’s home that was distinctly lacking, that didn’t have the extra something that seemed to pervade his and Cas’s home. The ephemeral, indefinable _thing_ that he couldn’t quite pin down if asked; but he thought it had to do with him and Cas, and how they liked to stretch out on the couch together just to feel each other’s closeness while Dean channel surfed and Cas read; or how Cas made sure they always kissed goodbye no matter if they were leaving for work all day or just going into the other room for ten minutes; or how he couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that something was missing whenever they weren’t together and at this point he was pretty sure he couldn’t live without the guy.

He caught Cas giving his throat a pleased glance and realized the monster hickey from earlier must be showing above his collar. The memory of Cas growling something that sounded like a possessive, “Mine,” against his neck muffled by the warm water of the shower flashed in his head, and Dean gave an answering satisfied smile because yeah, Dean was the type of guy who was actually proud to wear the evidence of their _very_ active sex life. Maybe it made him disgusting or shameless or just a big ol’ slut for Cas, to enjoy sporting big sloppy hickeys in plain sight, but whatever. Anyone who didn’t like it could get bent. They were obviously just jealous of his smokin’ hot boyfriend.

And that included eighty-year old Mrs. Bernard across the street, with her judgmental sniffs and her yappy little rat dog that resembled nothing so much as an oversized tan cotton ball.

Reaching for Cas’s hand Dean kissed the back of it just because he could (because he was a giant girl and just wanted any excuse to touch Cas again despite the teasing, as if the sex fifteen minutes ago wasn’t enough), bathing in the affectionate look it earned him like an idiot dog.

Dean shook his head ruefully. If it were anyone else but himself, his complete lack of dignity when it came to the gushy feelings Cas never failed to inspire in him would make him want to vomit.

Upon reaching the kitchen they tacitly separated to catalogue their options for food. Dean was starving. “What should we make for breakfast?” he asked, going to the pantry and sifting through the options.

Cas was peering into the refrigerator, considering. “It should be something special, given the occasion, don’t you think?”

A huge dopey grin spread across Dean’s face, the same one he’d worn almost constantly last night. “Yeah, probably,” he agreed. “Who knew Sammy would finally get the balls to pop the question? And who knew Jess was dumb enough to say yes?”

“Dean,” Cas admonished lightly. “Jess is a lovely girl, and they’re lucky to have found each other.” Dean just rolled his eyes fondly. _Sap_. (Even if he secretly agreed.) Cas frowned up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe they’re still asleep though, it’s already eleven.”

Dean snorted. “I can. We weren’t the ones doing tequila shots, if you’ll remember. What I can’t believe is that Jess still wants to marry him after seeing the Sasquatch dance.” His lips curved evilly, remembering. “Although I did get some excellent blackmail video out of that, so it’s cool. Just imagine what I’ll get at the wedding when he’s drunk _and_ blubbering. Ooh, or better yet—the bachelor party.”

It was Cas’s turn to roll his eyes as Dean snickered to himself, thinking of all the many and varied ways he was going to torture his brother. It was going to be _epic_. As long as they managed to make it through this morning, that was. “Alright, back to the real issue here: food. I’ve got blueberries, eggs, bacon, milk, half a bacon cheeseburger, one large bag of peanut M &M’s, beer, lettuce, and more beer. We really need to go to the store later, by the way. You?” Cas asked.

Pulled back to the task at hand, Dean glanced at the shelves and answered, “Let’s see. Flour, sugar, granola bars, Doritos, honey, boysenberry syrup, peanut butter, strawberry Pop Tarts—sweet, I thought we were out—potato soup, baking powder, Froot Loops, and finally, cardboard masquerading as shitty cereal.”

“Excuse you, that is real cereal, and you’d know it’s good if you ever bothered to try it,” Cas argued. “Besides, it’s good for you, as opposed to a box of pure sugar packaged for little kids.”

“What are you talking about, Froot Loops are awesome.”

“They’re terrible,” Cas stated.

“How would you know? You eat gross old-man cereal, your taste buds probably ran away in protest years ago,” Dean retorted.

“You eat like a twelve-year old and you’re going to develop diabetes before you’re forty.”

“If the alternative is eating tree bark and never being able to poop again, I’ll take it.”

Cas gave up. “I don’t know why I even try. There’s nothing to be done with you.”

Dean grinned at him wickedly. “There’s plenty you could do to me, actually. I have a few suggestions if you can’t come up with anything. I could even draw you some arrows,” Dean suggested helpfully as Cas shook his head at Dean’s inevitable descent into the gutter, delighted that he managed to get the last word in for once. Even after years spent carefully honing his skills as an annoying older brother he still never managed to get the last word in, because Cas was a sneaky bastard and too fucking smart. It was doubly frustrating because Dean was equal parts vexed and turned on by it.

“Anyway,” Cas continued pointedly, “what do you think? Blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs and fruit salad?”

Personally Dean thought the fruit salad was redundant because hello, blueberries, but Sammy would probably appreciate it—the long-haired crunchy granola freak—and anyway, he did make some damn fine pancakes if he said so himself. “Sounds good,” he agreed, and reached in to grab dry ingredients out of the pantry, still basking in his rare victory.

He’d gathered the flour and the baking powder in the crook of his elbow and was just reaching for the sugar when he felt Cas stop on his way to the counter and lean over his back, and suddenly there were warm lips at his ear.

“By the way,” Cas rumbled, and Dean went still as he felt one fiendish, brilliant finger land on the back of his thigh and begin meandering slowly up and over his ass, skirting the cleft, teasing. “No arrows necessary. I’ve always had an _excellent_ ,” his fingers spread and squeezed, “sense of direction.”

Dean sucked in an involuntary breath and held it, unable to stop the parade of steamy images now stampeding through his brain and derailing thought. He could have sworn he felt the barest scrape of teeth at his ear and the slight nudge of Cas’s hips, but when he turned his head Cas just peeled off his back and sauntered away to get out a pan for the eggs, leaving Dean standing there mutely with an armful of sundries and the beginnings of another hard-on.

Dean could practically feel the complacency rolling off him in waves.

Goddamn it.

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

_I understand about indecision, But I don’t care if I get behind_

_People livin’ in competition, All I want is to have my peace of mind_

Cas’s hips swayed in time with the music, bumping Dean lightly with an elbow or a hip occasionally as they worked at the stove together.

“You know, I always used to think they were singing about just wanting to have a piece of pie, until I realized the song was called ‘Peace of Mind,’” Dean said conversationally.

Cas snorted a laugh. “Of course you did. Freudian slip.”

“Come on,” Dean protested, “who doesn’t want a piece of pie? That’s just basic. A song like that would have to be a hit, I don’t care who you are.”

“Right.”

After just managing to suppress the urge to fling the bag of flour to the floor and pounce on Cas—and to be completely honest, the only things that stopped him were the knowledge that his brother might actually rouse his lazy ass and walk in on them at any moment (though admittedly that wasn’t as much of a deterrent as it maybe should have been), and that he’d end up being the one who had to struggle to scrub flour out from the grout between the tiles—plus he was fucking hungry—Dean had turned on the radio, flipping stations until he landed on Boston, and finished assembling the pancake ingredients on the counter next to where Cas was already cracking eggs into a bowl.

Dean reached for a whisk from the canister in front of him and wordlessly handed it to Cas, who traded him the salt. On the radio, Boston came to an end and the rhythmic sounds of Def Leppard filled the kitchen. Bending down, Dean retrieved a mixing bowl from the cabinet. The sliding of a drawer sounded to the left of the stove, and when Dean straightened he found measuring cups sitting next to the flour.

Cas reached across him to steal the milk jug and pour a splash into the egg mixture, shoulders bobbing and mouthing along with Joe Elliott. “Love is like a bomb, baby come on get it on…” He poured the egg mixture into the pan on the stove, and lit the burners under the griddle adjacent, ready for pancakes. He was met with a spatula even as he reached for it; Dean hummed, “Demolition woman, can I be your man,” held out his now-empty hand and Cas filled it with half a stick of butter and one egg.

Setting them aside, Dean continued construction on his awesomely cool dry-ingredient volcano. “Pour some sugar on me,” he sang, snickering quietly as he measured out a cup of sugar and dumped it in the bowl, because he was hilarious like that. It was really too bad not everyone appreciated it, but then, some people (who looked like Paul Bunyan with supermodel hair, whose names started with S- and ended with –am) were cursed with a crappy sense of humor.

He and Cas didn’t talk much while they cooked, just sang patchily along with the radio and moved around each other with practiced ease. Dean always liked it best when they cooked together. On the rare night when Cas had a late department meeting and Dean had to be responsible for his own dinner, he invariably moped around the kitchen in indecision for ten minutes, wishing someone else was there to snap impatiently at him to _just pick something already_ , before giving up and ordering pizza.

Folding the dry mix together he hollowed out the hole of the volcano and dumped his wet ingredients in, taking a moment to lament the circumstance where he was an adult responsible for producing an actual edible breakfast and couldn’t just dump in some vinegar, watch the whole thing bubble over and have a _real_ volcano. Sometimes being an adult sucked.

He glanced at Cas, still sporting bedhead and dark stubble and looking ridiculously hot as he transferred the steaming eggs to a serving bowl.

Then again, as an adult he got to have sex with his fine-ass boyfriend. Frequent, sweaty, sometimes bendy and athletic sex that usually left him exhausted, dizzy with lust and gratitude.

So there was that.

Dean got back to mixing and was about to drop in the blueberries when Cas paused and looked around, brow furrowing slightly. He leaned forward to look down the counter past the bowl of pancake mix and Dean reached out to pick up the hand towel and pass it to him with a wink. Cas murmured his thanks, wiped his hands and continued laying out strips of bacon from the package that had suddenly appeared.

Noticing Dean’s curious look, Cas said, “It’s for Sam and Jess. It occurred to me they might need a little something greasy with breakfast to help with the hangovers.”

Okay, that was bullshit right there. “What?” Dean asked incredulously. “How come Sam gets free bacon when you always make me put it back because,” he lowered his voice in approximation of Cas’s gruff tones, “it’s got too much cholesterol and if you wanted bacon with breakfast then you shouldn’t have had it on your cheeseburger last night, Dean?”

Cas met his stare and calmly answered, “Because Sam doesn’t live here and you do.” Dean was absolutely _not_ pouting, but Cas patted his shoulder consolingly anyway. “Don’t worry, Dean,” he soothed. “I’m sure Sam will experience plenty of his own marital hardships now with Jess around.”

Dean perked up somewhat at that, though he wouldn’t soon forget this instance of bacon betrayal. “True.” He did enjoy the idea of his giant brother being bossed around by little, sweet-looking Jess. Mollified, he went back to pouring batter on the hissing griddle with images of Jess dressed as a circus-style lion tamer and prodding Sam with a chair and a whip parading through his brain, and missed Cas’s small smile.

When finally there was a respectable stack of pancakes awaiting company in the warming tray and the batter was almost gone, Dean decided to get creative. Squinting in concentration, he guided the spout of the mixing bowl to pour a carefully regulated stream onto the griddle—up, turn, curve down and back—and grinned to himself as he fashioned a perfect D shape. Yes.

That was one awesome pancake.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he came to the end of the letter, not wanting to mess up the corner with a stray blueberry. Almost there—he swiped his left thumb across the spout of the bowl, cutting off the flow of batter. Perfect timing.

“Ha,” he looked up to grin at Cas, gesturing proudly at his accomplishment. Cas smiled back warmly, eyes flicking down to Dean’s hand as he made a grabby motion at the hand towel on the other end of the counter, accustomed to Cas’s rules about using his manners (and his napkin) and not always having to act like he was raised in a barn. Instead of handing it over however, Cas broke his own rule when he moved closer so he could take Dean’s hand and raise it to his mouth.

Blue eyes held his as Cas raised Dean’s thumb to his lips and proceeded to delicately lick the sweet batter off Dean’s skin, swirling his tongue to ensure he got every last drop. Dean’s lips parted unconsciously as his eyes tracked the movements of Cas’s mouth, mesmerized, watched it close over his thumb and suck.

Dean’s heart thumped in anticipation and his throat dried as he read the promise on Cas’s face. He’d been long familiar with that look, knew exactly what it meant and that he was about to lose his breath, very possibly his mind, but Cas would make sure he loved every minute of it.

Cas angled his body and stepped further into his space, reeking of both satisfaction and hunger as he listened to Dean’s breath hitch in and out. Cas knew exactly what he was doing to him, knew he could take Dean apart with barely any effort at all, and Dean didn’t even give a shit.

He had zero pride where Cas and sex were concerned.

There was no point in trying to maintain the illusion of control anyway, not when this beautiful man already knew him inside and out, knew exactly what made him tick. Because Dean knew Cas just as well as Cas knew him. For example, he knew from the flush tinting Cas’s cheeks and ears that he was just as turned on as Dean was right now. Sometimes, in his more sentimental moments (that as far as everyone else was concerned _did not exist_ ), he thought they knew each other better than they knew themselves, and he reveled in it, in the humbling truth that this extraordinary person had chosen _him_ , Dean Winchester, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the back of his mind Dean registered a door opening and closing followed by the sound of water running upstairs, but he couldn’t be bothered to concentrate on anything except Cas’s tongue flicking out, sooty lashes fanned out on his cheeks, head bobbing evocatively. His pupils flared with lust at the vivid memory of that mouth on him less than an hour ago, and his rapt focus narrowed to where a pair of impossibly plush lips wrapped around his thumb, slipping from the pad to the base and back again, sucking lightly.

Faint footsteps sounded from the stairwell and vaguely Dean thought he should pull away, at least attempt not to scar his brother and brother’s brand-spanking new fiancé for life with the sight of third-round morning sex, but then Cas’s cheeks hollowed slightly and he mmm’d brazenly at the taste of Dean’s skin and Dean’s upstairs brain was officially out for the count.

 _Fuck it_ , Dean decided. Sammy saw what he saw, too bad. Not like it was the first time, or most probably the last. Not like anyone could blame him, not when there was six feet of walking, breathing temptation standing right there, _licking_ him for god’s sake, tonguing his way across Dean’s palm and making absolutely divine little sounds of contentment, like all he needed to be happy in the entire world was his mouth on Dean’s skin.

He snatched his hand away, fisted the other urgently in Cas’s soft hair and dragged his head up into a heated kiss. Dean was completely oblivious now to the sounds of people making their way laboriously down the stairs, caught up instead in thrusting his tongue as far as he could inside Cas’s mouth and the fierceness of Cas’s grip on his waist, one stealthy hand beginning to edge down toward his ass.

He sucked on Cas’s tongue, greedily swallowing the other man’s moan, and conducted a rapid mental inventory all the possible surfaces available for nookie in the kitchen. Sitting on the counter was always good, but there was food; straight down on the floor, except he was still flushed with warmth from the stove and from Cas pressing all down his front, and didn’t relish the shock of cold tiles on his back; the kitchen table, which hadn’t been set yet… Ah, yes. He groaned at the picture forming in his mind, of Cas laid out beneath him, legs spread and propped on separate chairs while he let Dean devour him instead.

Yeah. They were so doing that.

He turned and began to back Cas in that direction, gasping out, “Table,” already anticipating the noises Cas would make, how he would choke out a moan when Dean swallowed him down, the whimpers he wouldn’t be able to control when Dean slid home, how Cas would sigh out his name so sweetly when he came—

“ _Dean._ ”

Not Cas.

“Oh my god dude, really?” Sam groaned. His brother’s voice was like a splash of cold water, shattering the spell of Cas’s body and clearing the haze of lust from his brain. “Do you have to do that here, in full view, where we eat? I’m never letting you cook at my house again.”

Dean and Cas broke apart to see Sam in the doorway, hand covering his eyes and obscuring the beleaguered expression on his face at having the misfortune to be related to them. Jess stood next to him still adorably rumpled from sleep, posture fatigued but sporting a huge grin that only widened when they saw her.

She gave a cheeky little wave when they looked at her and said innocently, “Hey guys. Looks like someone had a good morning.”

Sam groaned behind his hand again and shook his head sadly at her betrayal. Dean lifted one of his hands from where it had been pushing up Cas’s shirt since neither of them had fully let go at the interruption and gave a little half-wave back, shrugging rather lamely. He wasn’t going to apologize; he’d never be sorry for kissing the hottest boyfriend on the planet. A man that mouthwateringly handsome couldn’t simply be left alone. It was practically a moral imperative that he try to get into Cas’s pants at every opportunity.

And Dean always tried to do what was right.

“Could’ve been worse,” Dean offered, thinking they should at least be grateful for small favors. If they’d been five minutes later…

“Oh gross, seriously Dean? I didn’t take enough aspirin for this,” Sam whined. He still hadn’t lowered the hand shielding his face, because he was a little bitch like that.

Dean met Cas’s amused glance and rolled his eyes. “Dude you can open your eyes now, nothing to see here that will offend your maidenly sensibilities.”

Sam did lower his hand just so Dean could fully appreciate the bitchface he was sending their way. “Screw you, man. You guys have been together for what, like ten years? You—”

“Eleven,” Dean and Cas corrected in unison.

“Whatever,” Sam gritted. “The point is, shouldn’t you have gotten over the fucking-like-bunnies stage like a decade ago?”

“Jealous?” Dean grinned wickedly at his brother, delighting in anything that grossed him out. It was Dean’s sacred duty as the older sibling to take pleasure in tormenting the younger one at every opportunity, after all. If it involved action in Dean’s pants, well, so much the better.

Sam made another face and opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver another scathing-but-actually-just-whiny retort about the mental trauma of seeing one’s brother getting it on, when Castiel finally intervened.

“Why don’t we all sit down and have some breakfast? There’s coffee and Dean made pancakes,” he said, calm but firm. Ever the peacemaker, his Cas.

Sam breathed out a relieved, “Thank you,” sending Dean a glare that clearly said _well at least one of you actually knows how to interact with humans_ and headed for the table where, sadly, no sex would be taking place. Dean stuck his tongue out at Sam’s back because he was a mature adult and hoped that Sam’s face would get stuck like that one of these days—serve him right—while Jess chimed in her thanks and moved to sit down as well. She still just looked entertained by the whole scene. Probably a good thing, since this is what she’d chosen to marry into.

“Although, to be fair Sam,” Cas surprised them all by continuing, “I’m sure your lovely future wife would appreciate it if you also chose not to progress past the stage of ‘fucking like bunnies’ after you are married. It’s actually quite pleasant.”

Sam’s head thunked on the hard tabletop and Jess howled with laughter. Dean could not contain the biggest shit-eating grin ever and ducked to whisper in Cas’s ear, “I am so spreading you out and fucking you good on that table when they leave.” He relished Cas’s shiver and small nod, then moved to kiss him once more just for being so freaking awesome.

And to hear Sam groan again.

They disentangled themselves from each other at last (Dean sent a brief prayer of gratitude winging upward that Sam bitched long enough that any visible effects of the almost-sex had dissipated) and headed for the counter to bring out the food, listening to the soft murmurs of Jess soothing Sam, the big baby. Dean shook his head. That girl was going to have her hands full with his giant little brother. She was good people, though. Dean was glad all over again that Sam had managed to find someone like her. Especially since she was obviously miles out of his league. Being the amazing and tragically underappreciated brother that he was though, Dean decided not to remind her that she could do better.

Let the girl live in blissful ignorance and make his brother happy.

Dean frowned when he reached the stovetop and realized that being completely at the mercy of his dick meant that his awesome D-shaped pancake had burnt to a crisp in the interim.

Son of a bitch.

With a last regretful look, Dean flipped it into the trash, resolving to make another even better one next time. Maybe a bat signal.

Turning back to the cabinets Dean got out plates while Cas grabbed silverware and glasses. As they carted all the necessities over to the table Dean’s eye was caught by a quick flash of light, which upon closer inspection turned out to be Jess’s engagement ring shining in the sun. Dean didn’t know anything about diamonds, but even he knew this one was beautiful. It was round, set on a silver (platinum? White gold? Who the hell knew?) band, with smaller stones inset on either side. Not huge, but noticeable. Classy. Perfect for Jessica. Sam had really done good on that one, Dean reflected. Figured. He was just a giant girl, after all.

Still, Dean realized that aside from the drunken, overexcited shenanigans last night, he hadn’t properly welcomed Jess into the family.

He couldn’t allow that. Never let it be said that Dean Winchester was less than devoted to his family.

Setting the stack of plates down decisively, he moved around Cas with a quick pat on the butt (what? It was there) and tugged Jess unceremoniously out of her seat, causing her to give a little yelp of surprise at being pried away from Sam.

“C’mere, you,” Dean pulled her into a surprise bear hug. “Just realized I never officially welcomed you into the family, little sister.”

Jess gave a startled laugh. “Well thanks Dean, but since Sam and I have been living together for the past year and a half, you know, I just assumed we were good. Glad to hear it though.”

Over her shoulder Dean could see the misty smile forming on Sam’s face, but just as he was about to tell his brother to stop before they all grew lady parts he realized Sam’s face mirrored his own.

He probably should have released her already, but Dean couldn’t make himself stop. Jess was exactly what Sam needed and no way was he ever going to screw it up and lose her, not if Dean had anything to say about it. Clearly irked at missing out on the love, Cas tried to elbow Dean out of the way saying, “Okay, you got your turn, let the girl go so I can have mine now,” but Dean wouldn’t let go so Cas just wriggled his way under one of Dean’s elbows and slid his arms around both of them. His face wound up right by Jess’s ear, and he murmured a low, “Congratulations Jessica, you’ll make a beautiful bride.” For her part, Jess just stretched on her toes as well as she could and tilted her face up, trying to breathe while drowning in tall handsome men.

“Thanks guys!” she squeaked. “Love you too.” She patted their backs, but her new brothers didn’t seem inclined to break their impromptu huddle until she _really_ understood how suffocatingly _welcome_ she was.

Rescue came in the form of her lumbering fiancé. “Guys,” Sam protested, “let her breathe or we’ll never make it to the wedding.” He resorted to physically prying Jess away from them, but only succeeded in drawing their collective focus, which—while never a comfortable prospect—this morning was even more unnerving, as Dean and Cas suddenly seemed bent on subjecting everyone in sight to their smothering brand of affection.

Dean glanced expectantly at Cas and jerked his head at the prospective bridegroom. Cas nodded solemnly, and then suddenly they were turning on Sam, advancing on him as one, arms outstretched.

Sam raised his hands to ward them off, but his attempt at self-defense was futile. “Sammy! Come on, let us love you,” Dean cajoled dramatically, arms flung wide.

“No, no no! Stay back. I don’t want to know all the gory details of whatever was already going down in here this morning—” Cas tittered like a twelve-year old at that and Dean threw a beaming smile his way. Cas was the fucking best. “—but I do know I don’t want either one of you to touch me until you’ve washed your hands.”

Cas stopped in his tracks; he could always get Sam back later. Dean though, could not be halted.

“Aw, come on Sammy, what’s a little ass grabbing among family? We’re all adults here, it’s not like I’ve got cooties. We took a shower this morning and everything.” He paused, braced himself on his toes, waiting for an opening.

Sam held his position. This was honestly the lamest Mexican standoff any of them had ever seen. “Uh uh, _no_. Gross.” Sam’s face wrinkled in remembered revulsion, causing him to relax his stance infinitesimally, but Dean saw it and it was enough.

Dean lunged suddenly, the second of surprise slowing Sam down enough to allow Dean to grab his brother in a strong grip. He practically climbed Sam like a tree, clinging and wiping his hands all over his head and shoulders while Sam yelled in protest and tried to shove him off. Cas slung his arm around Jess’s shoulders and looked on, amused by the brothers’ antics.

He looked over at Jess and raised a questioning brow. “Are you going to save him?”

She shrugged. “Nah, not this time. He deserves this one actually, there’s no shame in playing a little grab-ass. I’ve been known to indulge on occasion myself.”

Cas grinned his big nose-crinkling, gummy grin and pulled her in closer. He kissed her temple fondly and said, “You’re awesome.”

“Awesome, Mr. Professor? Gee, you’d think all that school would have taught you some better words,” she teased. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Dean, his influence is showing.”

A fleeting look of complete adoration softened Cas’s face for a moment, before he shrugged back at her. “What can I say? The man is simply amazing in bed.”

Jess, bless her, nodded seriously and agreed, “Yeah, I know what you mean. Those Winchester boys are something, aren’t they?”

She directed a fond look at Sam, who was struggling to hold Dean in a headlock and force him to give in.

“Come on Dean, say it,” Sam insisted.

“Screw you.” He shoved his shoulder into Sam’s ribcage, twisting back and forth until he thought his head would pop off but unable to escape Sam’s eight-foot-long arms.

“Say, ‘I will not touch Sam with ass-hands,’ and I’ll let you go.”

“You’re too sensitive, man,” Dean panted in response. “I can vouch for exactly where Cas’s ass has been.” He managed to gain a smidgen of leverage when he stepped on Sam’s foot, ducked and sprung upward to drag his hand down Sam’s face.

Sam stumbled back, sputtering and scrubbing at his cheeks and his forehead. “You’re such a jerk, Dean!”

Free at last, Dean crowed with pride at his conquest. “Aha, take that bitch!”

Sam scowled and used the hem of his shirt to wipe off Dean’s invisible skunk. Dean turned and strutted back to Cas and Jess, wearing a cocky expression. He clapped his hands loudly and rubbed his palms together and generally looked like a thirty-year old child. He didn’t give a shit though; victory was the important thing here.

“So, who’s hungry?”

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

Dean sprawled out in his chair, hands linked over his pleasantly full belly.

Once they’d all managed to settle down enough to actually eat, the meal had passed comfortably, full of laughter and a recap of the night before, with Sam’s fervent vow of eternal gratitude that Jess had poured enough water down both of them before they passed out that neither one felt like dying this morning. They caught each other up on the happenings at their respective workplaces: Cas had a student who insisted on looking for the homoerotic subtext in literally every written work she could get her hands on, even when she had to fabricate it herself; Sam was hoping to be included on a big case coming up soon that he claimed had the potential to solidify his position within the firm while allowing him to gain more experience in trial law; Dean and the guys down at the firehouse were doing drills in an abandoned house all week, and he’d been assigned a newbie named Garth who didn’t look like he could even lift a toaster much less a fully-grown adult; and Jess bragged about how jealous all the other nurses were going to be when she flashed her ring at them accidentally-on-purpose the next day.

He was feeling agreeably languid in the aftermath of good food and enthusiastic conversation, and figured it was just about time for an early afternoon nap. The others were still talking though, and—shocker—the topic had drifted to the impending nuptials. If another year or so down the road, according to the bride, still counted as ‘impending,’ that was.

And Dean genuinely wanted to hear about their plans, loved these people to death, but he was pretty much ready to kick them out and cuddle with Cas in front of the TV at this point.

He looked over; saw the man in question nodding and sipping from his mug as he listened, seemingly oblivious now to Dean’s presence. He poked Cas in the side experimentally, prepared for a frown or an admonition to act like an adult. Maybe even, if he was lucky, a smile and a kiss.

Instead Cas just ignored him and continued talking to Jessica, asking about the wedding.

He’s such a girl. He was actually interested in this crap, flowers and venues and who’s going to walk down the aisle in what order. Sometimes Dean wondered how exactly he wound up with the kind of guy who drank tea and listened to Broadway soundtracks and _just offered to go dress shopping_ with his future sister-in-law, what the fuck.

He glanced across at Sam to see if he was as taken aback as Dean was by Castiel’s level of interest the strapless vs. sleeveless debate, but his brother was too busy saying he thought Jess should wear her hair down to notice.

Dean sighed.

He was surrounded by girls.

Bored with no one paying him any attention, Dean pushed the remains of his food around on his plate. He picked apart his pancake and tuned out the wedding-talk as best he could, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Cas would look like, all dressed up in a fancy tux with a white rose on his lapel, standing at the front of a church, eyes sparkling and holding out his hands to Dean…

If he was honest with himself, this wasn’t the first time Dean had conjured up that particular picture. Far from it, in fact, and it never failed to arouse a fluttery feeling in his stomach. He probably should talk to Cas about it, since he was ostensibly a grown-up and they were in a long-term, committed relationship, but he shied away from the idea every time.

Dean was just no good at talking about the mushy crap. He knew that Cas made him happy, deliriously so sometimes; hell, he didn’t even know it was possible to feel this stuffed-full with warm and fuzzy feelings for someone without bursting at the seams. Or spontaneously morphing into that annoying goddamn bear from the fabric softener commercials. It always seemed like the kind of notion more at home in one of the cheesy romance novels Jo was fond of insisting she didn’t read, but everyone knew she hoarded under her mattress like crack.

Until he met Cas, and fell so stupidly in love his sixteen-year-old self would have slapped him silly by now.

He straightened and snuck a look around at his family, half-smiling unconsciously. This right here was all he ever could have wanted out of life, more than he ever thought to ask for.

And let’s be real here: Cas was it for him. He was endgame for Dean; they’d been together eleven years already and he still looked forward to waking up every morning to see what kinds of adventures with Cas the day held. There would never be anyone else.

So bringing up the idea of making it legal with rings and all shouldn’t have been a big deal, but for some reason it still was.

And it’s not like Cas had ever brought it up either; he had exactly the same opportunities to say something as Dean had, and never once had he turned to Dean and said, ‘Hey, instead of going to the grocery store today why don’t we go down to the courthouse and get married instead?’ Every once in a while though, Dean thought he saw a sort of wistfulness on Cas’s face when he was watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding for the four hundredth time, or when he was making faces at a baby behind its mother’s back.

Dean sat back in his chair once more, watching Cas talk with his hands.

It wasn’t something he had to decide now, right this minute, but he hadn’t given the idea any serious thought in the last year or so. Maybe it was time to revisit it.

For now, he was content to let the feeling of comfort wash over him that being in the presence of three of his favorite people in the world always brought, and wonder if Sam would get his hair done for the wedding at the same salon where Jess went. Maybe they’d get a couples discount. Two updos for the price of one.

They should totally wear matching tiaras too.

A dog barked outside on the street, making Dean realize it was well into the afternoon now and it’d been at least fifteen minutes since Cas even looked his way. A little put out with the lack of attention on their lovely, lazy Sunday, Dean nudged his foot against Cas’s ankle. No reaction. He did it again, jiggling their feet together. Cas patted his knee distractedly but just kept on drinking his tea, pausing to laugh at Jess’s recounting of how nervous Sam was when he met her parents for the first time.

“You should have seen it. Sam was trying so hard to be on his best behavior, but my dad was determined to hate him because he knew we were getting serious, and my mom kept making him bend down so she could wipe his face,” Jess giggled. “Plus, my mom has all these ridiculous porcelain figurines on pretty much every surface in the house and he was afraid to move because he didn’t want to break anything so he couldn’t even get away from her. I think that is the closest I’ve ever come to actually seeing a bull in a china shop.”

“Popular with the in-laws already, Sam? You’re a fast worker,” Cas teased.

Dean started lobbing bits of pancake at Cas’s head. Mostly they missed him entirely or bounced harmlessly off his shoulder, but it made him feel childishly better.

Meanwhile, Sam had no idea what to do about Mr. and Mrs. Moore. “Oh it gets worse, don’t worry,” he said sardonically. “I don’t think her dad smiled at me once; mostly he just looked like he was trying to figure out how big a car he would need to fit my body in the trunk and dump me in the woods somewhere, far away from his daughter.” A pancake crumb stuck in a tuft of Cas’s hair, almost like a bow. A tiny, butter-flavored hair bow. “And then as if licking her thumb and wiping it on my face wasn’t enough, Jess’s mom kept giving me these really weird looks and saying stuff like, ‘Oh my Jessica, he certainly is a handsome one,’” Sam mimicked Mrs. Moore in a terrible falsetto voice. It sounded more like someone had run over Minnie Mouse.

Dean had to laugh at that one and joined in the conversation, temporarily giving up on aiming a blueberry right at Cas’s ear canal. “Aw Sammy, she thinks you’re pretty. It must have been your glorious flowing tresses that got her.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

“It was actually pretty creepy,” Jess interjected, “I don’t know where that came from but even I was uncomfortable, and I have to pose in an ugly Christmas sweater in July every year so my mom’s holiday cards will be exactly right.” She looked over at Sam. “By the way, we are never making our kids do that. It’s called Hallmark, baby.” Sam firmly agreed.

Dean looked down at his empty plate in slight consternation. He was all out of ammo. Contrary to his seeming obliviousness Cas had apparently been stockpiling the crumbs he’d caught at the edge of his plate, unconcerned, so Dean stealthily reached over to steal some back. Just as he started calculating trajectories to see if he could get one to fall down the back of Cas’s t-shirt, he was interrupted by Sam’s prissy voice. “Cut it out Dean, jeez. We grew up in the same house, I know Mom taught you some manners.”

Dean made a face. “I’m just playing, don’t get your ginormous panties in a twist Samantha.”

“Hey it’s not my fault you need Cas to pet you and tell you what a good boy you are all the time. Frankly I find it a little disturbing.” He just sat there looking superior while Dean scowled.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot Dean could say to defend himself. He did need Cas to pet him. Thanks ever so much to Sam for pointing that out.

Fucker.

Swiftly altering his target Dean launched the whole handful of pancake crumbs right at Sam’s forehead. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam threw back without thinking, brushing the remnants of Dean’s breakfast off his shirt.

Dean couldn’t resist one more jab. “At least I don’t want to make out with Cas’s mom,” he said smugly when Sam looked horrified. Sadly he was too busy gloating over his victory to see the piece of egg that flew across the table to smack him in the eye. “Ow! You little shit,” Dean exclaimed and flung a scrap of bacon, momentarily mourning the loss of the delicious morsel before he had to dodge a banana slice that whizzed right past his jaw.

He jumped up to reach across the table but Cas’s arm whipped out to stop him just as he would have commandeered the butter. “Children,” he said warningly. Dean reluctantly sat back down and Sam lowered his fork from the catapult position, both duly chastened. Food fight á la Animal House, averted.

Jess looked on, fascinated. “You definitely have to teach me how to do that one of these days,” she entreated Cas in wonder.

Cas just gave an enigmatic smile and shrugged one shoulder while Dean settled down at his side. Jess appeared suitably impressed by the miracle she’d just witnessed firsthand. “There are several useful tips I’ve learned when it comes to living with a Winchester man,” he told her.

Sam mocked, “Yeah, it helps when he’s totally whipped.”

Dean’s head popped up, offended, but before he could do more than open his mouth Jess said easily, “Oh, I think I’ve already got that one down,” and patted Sam’s belly reassuringly.

Dean’s laughter cracked out over the table at Sam’s look of utter betrayal by his fiancé, at least until Cas admitted, “It does help somewhat.” The brothers traded matching expressions of affront while their significant others just began to chat comfortably once more.

Dean crossed his arms and exchanged a stiff nod with Sam, silent assent that they were the manliest masculinest men to ever man, who could chop wood and wrangle bears like nobody’s business and who were definitely not helpless in the face of their partners.

Cas was such a butt sometimes. _See if I save your ass during the zombie apocalypse now_.

He was still glowering a little at his plate and kicking his chair leg when the conversation ended a few minutes later and Cas leaned over to plant a conciliatory kiss on his cheek. “It’s okay honey, you know I love you and I can’t live without you,” he murmured against the side of Dean’s face. Dean grunted noncommittally. “Don’t be grouchy.”

He could just hear Sam and Jess having a similar chat across the table. “Besides,” Cas cajoled, “don’t forget your promise.”

Against his will Dean responded to the tingle of stubble rasping against his own and the coaxing tone in Cas’s voice. “What promise?” he grumbled, trying to hang onto his sulk.

Cas’s already low voice turned smoky with anticipation. “I believe you promised to fuck me hard on this very table once they leave,” he reminded Dean, hushed so they wouldn’t be overheard.

Dean’s sullenness practically evaporated into a rainbow and he turned his head so their noses brushed. Cas’s eyes were keen on his face. “Actually I said ‘fuck you good.’”

“Mm-hmm, good and hard,” Cas agreed.

“Butthead,” Dean whispered and kissed the corner of Cas’s mouth.

“Baby,” Cas returned, ghosting his fingers down the inside of Dean’s thigh to his knee.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments more, until Cas winked exaggeratedly and Dean crumbled the rest of the way, huffing a laugh and dropping a kiss on Cas’s nose.

Turning back to gather up the dirty dishes and serving bowls, Dean noticed Sam and Jess had apparently made up too. His little brother was grinning like an idiot, leaning way over into Jess’s space. Dean scoffed to himself. Cas was kidding about him being whipped, but Jess had Sam wrapped tight around her little finger. Dude was so far gone.

It was kind of pathetic, really.

And if Dean had to reach across Cas to pick up a couple of empty bowls and _of necessity_ got close enough to smell Cas’s hair, well, it was totally not his fault.

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

Jess caught at Sam’s fingers as they descended the stairs once more, swinging their hands jauntily between them and giving him a sunny smile.

“Hey, you,” she said.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, bemused.

Jess leaned closer. “Guess what?” she asked conspiratorially.

“What?” Her grin was infectious.

She dropped her voice as if imparting state secrets. “I’m getting married!” she whisper-yelled.

“Yeah?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yep!”

Sam stopped at the bottom of the stairs and swung Jess around to face him, making her blonde curls bounce. “That’s funny, ‘cause I’m getting married too.” He slid his arms around her waist as she reached to rest her hands around his neck, easier because she was still standing one step up.

Jess moved closer and widened her eyes comically. “No shit! Do I know her?”

Sam said, “Yeah, actually, I think you do.” He ducked his head and kissed Jess soundly, smiling into it when he heard her breath hitch. She tasted minty fresh, like the toothpaste they’d just borrowed from the guest bath upstairs, and soft, like home. He’d thought before that he could spend the rest of his life kissing this woman; now he tightened his arms around her, realizing with satisfaction that he would get to do just that.

They broke the kiss by degrees, until with one last peck they stood straight again.

“You about ready to head home?” Sam asked.

Jess nodded. “Yep, just need one more cup of coffee and I’m good to go. Think you can brave the kitchen that long?”

Dean and Cas had been alone in the kitchen while he and Jess went upstairs to change; _supposedly_ , they were cleaning but really who knew. “Ugh, let’s just hope they’re fully clothed.”

Jess’s light laugh tinkled in the air. “Come on, big guy,” she tugged him toward the doorway through which unknown horrors awaited them, “you can take it.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Jess breezed into the spacious kitchen while Sam entered more slowly, wary. He breathed a small smile of relief when he breached the threshold. True to their word, the food was put away and the table was cleaned up, and no sex of any kind was in progress. Dean stood at the sink, elbows deep in dirty dishes and soapy water, while Cas stood next to him with a hand towel, drying and stacking dishes to put away.

He walked around behind Jess and dropped a kiss on top of her head before settling beside her, accepting the mug she offered.

Dean called over his shoulder, “You guys all set to go? You know you can stay awhile longer if you want.”

Cas smiled approvingly at him while Sam demurred, “No, thanks guys, we’re good. Better head home, got things to do before work tomorrow. Thanks for letting us crash here last night.”

“Ditto,” Jess chimed in.

Cas swiped the dish towel over a plate and added it to the stack. “It was our pleasure having you both, you know that. You are always welcome here, no invitation necessary.”

“Yeah Sammy, don’t you know that by now? Jesus, I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Sam sent a long-suffering look at Jessica, making her smile around the lip of her cup. His brother really was an obnoxious ass sometimes, not to mention the whole host of troubles he had when it came to keeping it in his pants whenever he was within thirty feet of Castiel. Sam loved him, though—both of them—and counted himself lucky that they didn’t hate each other or live on opposite sides of the country, like so many other sets of siblings he’d known.

He screwed up his face and soundlessly mimicked Dean, making Jess laugh. She lowered her brows and shook her finger at him warningly, looking so much like a cartoon version of annoyed Castiel that he couldn’t even handle it.

Distantly he heard Cas chastise Dean gently to be nice, and thought, _Well at least one of them is on my side_.

Looking up in appreciation, he was just in time to see Dean pause and stare assessingly at the back of Cas’s head for a moment. He seemed to come to a quick decision. Dean dropped the silverware he was holding back into the sink and proceeded to scoop up a huge double handful of soap bubbles. Cas turned back from loading plates in the cabinet about this time and blinked when he was met with Dean’s diabolical grin.

Jess was staring too now, watching the little drama play out as Dean lifted his dripping hands to plop the cloud of bubbles right on top of Cas’s head and rub them in. He combed his fingers through Cas’s hair, forming a mohawk with a level of care worthy of Jose Eber.

Castiel just stood there while rivulets of water ran down his neck and dampened the collar of his t-shirt. His brow furrowed while Dean continued to coax his hair vertical. Dean didn’t appear to be fully satisfied with his work until the strands finally stood up in a Sex Pistols-worthy ‘do. Cas hadn’t moved through the entire process, but he was staring warningly at Dean, the look on his face seeming to say _Are you sure you want to start this?_

Dean, the idiot, sported this cocky, smug grin, arching a challenging brow at Cas.

“Hm,” was all Cas said as he turned back to the counter. Dean looked honestly disappointed, like he’d just been denied pie. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and grudgingly made to go back to the dishes. When Cas turned back around, however, he’d retrieved the syrup where it still sat out. He stepped up, popped the cap, and Sam caught a look of nefarious glee on his face as he upended the container over Dean’s head with an audible squirt.

Dean wasn’t nearly so stoic as Cas. He jumped back from the sink with a gasped shout, sticky streaks spilling down his nose, cheeks, neck, and no doubt under his shirt. Cas cackled with triumph and tossed the bottle aside, bracing himself.

“I can’t friggin’ believe you just did that,” Dean yelled.

“What are you gonna do about it, Aunt Jemima?” Cas taunted.

Dean growled. “Oh, it’s on,” he declared and lunged at Cas, grappling to get close and rub syrup on him when Cas’s arms blocked his advance.

The two of them slipped back and forth in the puddle of water, soap, and maple flavoring, gasping and laughing and wrestling for dominance. They were too evenly matched though, and the shoving quickly devolved into a game of who could make the biggest mess out of the other one, smearing sticky maple flavoring and soap bubbles. The dishes were completely forgotten as they both regressed to teenagers, complete with choked laughter and smack talk.

“You are going down.”

Cas’s condescending snort. “You wish, pervert.”

“Ow, watch the elbows, dickhead.” A grunt from Dean.

“Bite me.”

Dean tried to deal his way into winning after he slipped and nearly got knocked on his ass. “If you give up I’ll let you lick it all off.”

He should have known Cas would still be able to one-up him. “If _you_ give up I’ll lick it all off.”

Meanwhile they both actually looked utterly ridiculous, Cas with his melting punk-rock mohawk and Dean like a substandard Winnie the Pooh.

Sam watched what was probably the gayest display ever, disgust written plainly across his face. “They’re revolting.”

Jess leaned into his shoulder and slipped her hand under his wrist to lace their fingers together. “Yeah they are,” she agreed.

“No, I mean like actually nauseating.” Sam insisted. “Sometimes, when I look at them, I honestly feel like throwing up.”

Jess just nodded and hmm’d empathetically, hair tickling his arm.

Sam sighed, definitely _not_ sulking, no matter what his face said, because he was a grown-ass man. “I wanna be just like them,” he confessed, feeling dirty.

Jess patted his chest consolingly. “Me too.”

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen Animal House, you should.
> 
> Also, I actually love cheesy romance novels. No shame, people.


End file.
